


Daminette Oneshots

by Raz_B_Rose



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Minor Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Damian Wayne, reverse life au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:14:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23608933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raz_B_Rose/pseuds/Raz_B_Rose
Summary: Here is my ever growing collection of Daminette one shots for you folks. Enjoy and feel free to request in the comments.
Relationships: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Damian Wayne
Comments: 50
Kudos: 297





	1. Reverse Life AU

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I posted at 12:30 am. No I did not do an in depth proof read. It's late and I really wanted to get this posted. Enjoy!

Marinette had been raised in what she would consider a deplorable manor unfitting even the strongest of beings. It was in a literal sense, a living hell. She had been driven to near death, not only with over exhaustion but botched training exercises as well. No matter how hard you push a child, physical limitations will always be a thing. 

She knew more ways to kill a man twice her size than there were types of ants that crawled the earth. She could be flawless in her execution of her skills, leaving very to no little trace or obliterating the enemy into submission to leave a message. She had conquered physical feats that many trained years to accomplish by age eight. 

She had the strength greater than the average fifteen year old girl, and the physical agility of an adult. Even after all this time, she continued to train constantly, adjusting to her ever changing and growing body. After all it has been trained into her since birth to be nothing but perfect. 

She had been trained to be the perfect lady in perfect society as the perfect assassin. Knowing every social cue in high society, from the perfect demur smile to using her words for political gains. She knew anything and everything a young girl raised in high society would be expected to know. She had been trained on any and all personalities needed for cover stories. She could be anyone she needed to be at the drop of a hat. She knew poisons, blades, and multiple languages. She knew various forms of fighting, having been trained to make a style all her own. The ultimate femfatale by age thirteen. No man would suspect her when she was older, much less when she was younger. 

Yes Marinette Cheng-Wayne was many things, and knew how to be anything she needed to be. However all this knowledge brought her to the one big question, so big that she found herself in an interesting situation. She felt her face muscles seized, eyes glazing over, the woman in front of her move out of focus. Who was Marinette Cheng-Wayne beyond the constant varying acts put on by what she deemed the situation needed. Even now she was acting at this stupid opening Gala. Even now she didn’t feel any form of joy the entire night. She felt drained. She felt irritated. She felt just, done.

Her dress was too big, and too impractical. Her hair hung too loosely around her neck, making her feel clammy and gross. Her palms were sweaty and she could feel what she knew was the start of a panic attack, and felt rather disgusted with herself for having one. She should be more controlled than this. 

Slowly she relaxes her face muscles into a resting scowl, she watches as the women she and her father were talking to exchange a side eye. Father looked at her in concern, after all she had stopped mid sentence. What she had been talking about, she didn’t have the care to remember, after all it was frivolous and ignorant on their end. 

“Marinette what’s wrong dear?” The oldest of the woman looks at her with lips downturned and parted, eyes wide, brow furrowed. Ah the perfect replication of concern. 

“Oh shove it Beatrice, like you actually care, which I know you don’t” the woman, Beatrice, gasps, covering her mouth with one gloved hand in dramatic shock. Marinette just snears in disgust. How would anyone answer her question if everyone around her put on an act?

“Marinette that was uncalled for,” Bruce scolds her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder, “Apologize.” His tone is firm, and she can already tell she is going to get a lecture when she gets home. 

Bruce has had it easy the last four years when taking her out in public. She had been good at putting her training to good use to fly under the radar of her father's social circles. Their nightlife activities is where he had put all his energy in reforming and refining her to a sense of morality, still a grey area in her mind, but a sense of morality nonetheless. She could see in his eyes that he was concerned and confused. 

Without another word she turns away from them, pushing her way roughly through the crowd, not caring about her actions at all anymore. She ignored the grunts and exclamations of annoyance in favor of distancing herself from all these people. She pulled to a stop when someone grabbed her by her arm, their hand warm and strong. 

“Whoa there babybird, what's got you in a huff?” She turns her glare on Grayson, mildly annoyed at his concern, even more annoyed that the one person who gave great advice was the one to stop her. She didn’t know what she wanted right now, and talking to Grayson felt like she would be stabbing herself with an emotional knife. 

“Let go Grayson, I just need out of this stupid place.” With a yank, she is free, moving a little faster towards the exit. She can hear his footsteps following behind her, annoying her further. If only she wasnt in this stupid dress, she could slip away. How did she get convinced to wear this contraption again? Her mother would be disappointed in her for not remembering. 

With a dramatic and resounding bang from the thrown open doors to the front entrance to the new Wayne building, she marches down the steps, past the remaining reporteres and flashing cameras. She just keeps going until she finds herself on the side of the Seine river. It smelled terrible and reflected oddly against the setting sun. She leans against the railing of the staring at the water drifting below. 

The fresh air felt nice against her flushed face and she could feel her heart rate returning to normal. Finally alone, she could start processing her mental breakdown. Given all the roles she's had to play in her life, it wouldn’t be a simple search either. The search for her true self. Who was she outside her parents?

She hears a set of steps making their way towards her. They were heavy but not because of weight but muscle mass. They belonged to someone tall as well. Her relaxing atmosphere crumbled around her. 

“Huh, hello are you lost?” She glances at the speaker, pleasantly surprised at her uninvited guest to her pity party. At least it wasn’t Grayson. He was around her age, close to six feet, his skin was a warm tone and blended well with the blue shirt he wore. His eyes were a startling green, not bright, but darker in a good way. His hair was styled into spikes, the gell glistening in the fading light. To say he looked good was an understatement. 

“Oh must not speak French,” he murmurs to himself, “Are you lost?” He asked again but in English this time.

“No, I'm not lost,” She answers in French, turning her gaze back to the sights in front of her. 

“Oh I’m sorry, I just assumed that a beautiful girl like you must have gotten lost going to a party or something” He fumbles for his words, clearly embarrassed. 

“I am in a predicament, but not one that would be as urgent as being lost” She can feel her face turning pink at his words. A beautiful girl. Well she knew she was beautiful, it's just rare to hear it from strangers on the street. 

“What's wrong?” He joins her in leaning over the water, he doesn look at her just stares into the depths of the river along with her. She studies him for a moment, watching as all traces of embarrassment vanish from his features, quickly replaced by intrigue and an emotion she had trouble placing. She turns back to the water confused at the things adding to her confusion. 

“Why do you want to know?”

“Well, I am a good listener, even if I can’t help, isn’t it nice to talk to someone sometimes isn’t it?” 

“How do you know you’re a good listener? I can’t imagine you were trained to listen well?” The boy chuckles softly at her words.

“I like helping people and listening to others' troubles is a good way to help. Takes no training at all to just listen.” He sends her a grin before turning away from her again.

“I’m confused.” She starts, frustration welling up within her. “I don’t know who I am.” Just as he said the boy didn’t respond, but Marinette could tell that he was listening, she so continued. She tucks a stubbornly loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

“I know a lot of things, and put on a lot of different acts all the time. I have had to be one way for my mother and another for my father. I have to act a certain way at my father's parties and at school and at work and with my brothers.” The words are just tumbling out like an avalanche. 

“I was talking to these rich women who like to behave like they're ignorant to life's pain and trials, and I had to pretend that I was too and it just pissed me off!” She reaches up to rub the spot on her chest where she had been stabbed three years ago. The scar surprisingly was small, and hidden by her dress. She watches as he switches between observing her and the water. His eyes kept straying to where her scar was, his expression surprising unreadable for her. 

“I- I just want to know who I am as a person, outside everything.”

“Well, I think that's going to be a difficult question to answer. After all everything we experience and know helps make us who we are.” She feels tears welling up in her eyes which just pissed her off more. 

“But I'm not what my mother raised me to be” She knows she's being defensive, but she needs this strange boy to know that isn’t who she wants to be anymore. 

“Then you have a part of the answer. Despite how your mom raised you you know that isn't who you are” He smiles widely at her, turning to lean his back against the railing, elbows propped up as well. She looks at him in surprise, eyes not leaving his own, even after he looked away in embarrassment. 

“Who do you think I am?”

“I don’t know you”

“No but I’m told first impressions tell you a lot about a person.” She can tell he's thinking; about what she doesn’t know but she hopes to get some more answers soon. She repostitions her hair behind her ear once again. 

“I can’t tell you too much now but how about we go on a walk? Then I can tell you what kind of person I think you are at the end of the night” She smiles again, and she is finding that she doesn’t mind his smile, it has a certain charm to it after all.

“I would appreciate that,” she walks beside him, hands lifting the heavy navy fabric encasing her legs. “However I feel as though I am overdressed for such an activity as casual as a walk” He laughed again, why she didn’t understand. His laughter was contagious and she found herself smiling with him. 

“Do strangers' opinions matter to you?” 

“No,” She hesitates on finishing her sentence. He gives her an encouraging smile “But my Father’s and oldest brother’s do I guess” She kicks a leg out, watching her skirt lift but before settling back down. 

“Why is that?” She thinks over his question, reaching up to play with her hair. He pulls something from his pocket, his face flushed as he presents her with a hair tie. 

“Sorry, but it looks like you need it” 

“Thanks, My hair has been bothering me all night” 

“So why does your Father’s and brother’s opinions matter to you?” He asks again, while she ties up her hair, and she doesn't miss the way his eyes stay in her neck for a moment, or how he quickly averts his eyes. She can’t help but smirk. 

“My mother was-” She tries to find a word to describe her that a normal person would. “Strict. She expected a lot of things from me, unreasonable things. Her child was to take over for her father, unfortunately I was born a girl. Grandfather was not happy. So I was raised for her to prove herself.”

“I don’t think that's unfortunate, nothing wrong with being a girl after all”

“They would not agree,” She sighs, getting lost in the turret of recollections from her childhood. The harsh words, the degrading punishments, the unreasonable expectations. She spirls into her memories. She can feel the burn of metal against the bottom of her foot, the pain excruciating. And all because she couldn’t remember a few words of Rusian. She was seven. 

“Hey, Hey! Are you ok?” She takes a shaky breath, meeting his eyes, nodding quickly. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” He takes her hand, gently leading her to a bench. He glances behind himself, looking at her in worry. 

“Wait here, I’ll be right back” He motions for her to wait before running off, She watches him turn the corner and out of sight. She looks back down at her hands, surprised that they were shaking violently. She hadn’t had this kind of reaction to her childhood in over a year now. She was pathetic and weak. Holding her head in her hands she continues to take deep breaths, thankful that at least she hadn’t started crying like last time. 

“You really scared me there” The boy was back, this time with a bottle of water and a damp rag. She tilts her head in thanks, taking the rag first, the temperature helping calm her down further.   
“And I didn’t know your name, so it took a few minutes to get your attention.” She laughs softly. 

“Hey thats the first time you’ve laughed” She shouldn’t have looked at him then, because the look in his eyes left her breathless. They were soft and gentle, again holding that indecipherable emotion. 

“I don't laugh often.” She whispers, afraid to break the spell. She doesn’t want it to end, whatever this setting that had been created was. It was peaceful and never before had she felt more like herself than with this stanger. 

“And you name?” He whispers back, he continues to smile, taking her free hand. 

“Marinette”

“That's a very beautiful name, it's French for ‘of the sea’. Do you know why the name was picked?” 

“My mother never said” As soon as she mentioned the woman again he was quick to change the subject, giving her the water. 

“Well my name in Damian”

“That means to tame”

“Does it? I’ve never actually looked it up before” They sit quietly, watching as the street lights slowly come on, the last of the light fading. 

“Will your parents worry about where you are?”

“No, as I’ve gotten older I get more of a free reign what about you?” 

“They aren’t worried, probably just annoyed because of how I left the Gala.”

“Earlier you said that your dad's opinion is important to you, why is that?” Damian asks the question for a third time, “If you don’t want to answer you don’t have to” he rushes to add. 

“No, it's fine Damian. When my mother handed me off to my father, it was an adjustment for both of us. He helped me change a lot of bad….habits,” she pauses to think about the last life she ever took. Just a few nights after she started living with Bruce. His was the only name she remembers, because Bruce had drilled it into her to never forget what she did. Gilbert Johnson. 

“How did he have to adjust?”

“Well he didn’t know I existed for eleven years, so that was a shock, and to get me in the state I was in….I was difficult and aggressive, fighting him at every turn.” And when she said fighting she meant literally. They would constantly get into scuffles, more so with her brothers, but Damian didn't need to know that.

“Nothing like I see now” Damian interjects. 

“Well it was thanks to his patience and love that I am the way I am now.” She shrugs. “So I try everyday to meet his expectations, to make him proud, because his disappointed face is awful” She thinks back to the Gala, about how she left, about how disappointed he looked. Her stomach turns at the thought of seeing him at the hotel tonight. 

“You seem to live you life by other people's expectations a lot” Damians slowly gains a look of horror, “I’m so sorry that came out so rude” 

“I’m not offended, it's true after all,” She waves off his concern. Silence drills over them, slowly gaining an awkward feeling to it. 

“What is your biggest dream?” He blurts out, bewildering her. 

“What?”

“What is one thing you want to accomplish in life?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t really thought about what I want.” 

“Then there is another way to answer your question. What does Marinette want out of life? What brings you joy, excitement, or even helps you feel accomplished. Not saying that living to your fathers expectations are bad, but maybe try to find what you want” 

“You know Damian,” she smiles, swinging her legs back and forth, “You know something I don’t and I want you to teach me”

“What's that Marinette?”

She looks into his eyes again, finding that that shade of green is her new favorite color. He doesn’t break eye contact this time, she feels her lips quirk at his quickly reddening face. His jawline was attractive and she can see that he worked out regularly. Yes Damian was quite attractive, and she was never one to focus on such an attribute of another person, only to acknowledge it in a passing thought. Slowly she leans in, her quirked lips quickly turning into a predatory grin as he doesn’t back down. 

“Teach me how to live.” A heart beat of silence passes between them, she watches as many different emotions flash through his eyes, she doesn’t even realize she has started to cry until he reaches up to wipe the tears from her eyes. She blinks rapidly in surprise. 

“Marinette, you are an interesting girl. But something tells me you wont be in Paris forever” His hand stays on her face longer than necessary, hey gaze an overture of regret and longing. 

“True. I return to the states tomorrow.” She can’t help but feel rejected before something even started. 

“That's quite the distance,” The look hasn’t left his eyes, “Marinette-”

“No its ok, I understand.” She hands him the rag and water, standing quickly, “Thanks for listening, I wish you the best '' She doesn’t make it very far before he's grabbing her hand.

“Thankfully we live in an age where long distance communication can be accomplished in seconds.”

“What reason do you have to do such a thing?”

“Because-” He starts to stutter, “You’re cute and I really want to keep talking to you” She can’t help but giggle, flushed from her cheeks to her toes in flustered joy. She is also enjoying his flustered state, he scratched the back of his head, but does not avert his gaze from her own. 

“I too find you attractive,” she gives a demur smile, enjoying the fluttering of her stomach. He is quick to take her hands again, leading her on an impromptu tour of the city, before she knows it, they are just a few blocks away from the new Wayne building. She uses her arm to stop him. 

“We best part ways here. There are bound to still be reporters around, don’t need them hounding you everyday just because you were seen walking with me.”

“Your life must be stressful” He reaches into his pocket again, this time however pulling out his phone, handing it to her to add her own contact. “I’ll text you when I get home, I know that dress doesn’t have pockets” 

“How do you know that?” Despite her protests, Alfred had insisted that one night being cell phone free wouldn’t kill her, especially in Paris. She still disagrees but nevertheless, the man had his ways. 

He winks at her, “Well Marinette, we still have a lot to get to know about each other, guess I’ll start with that my dream is to be a fashion designer.” 

“I can’t wait to hear about that.” She suddenly feels sad, holding her hands behind her back, staring at her shuffling feet. 

“And I can’t wait to hear about your dream Marinette,”

“I still don’t have one”

“I’ll help you find it” It almost looks like he's about to walk away, she has to find a way to make him stay a little longer. 

“Hey Damian, I surprisingly really like you, and thank you for talking with me.” her face is pink again, and she's finding it hard to look him in the eyes this time. 

He leans down his soft lips brushing against her cheek, “I really like you too Marinette, and we can talk any time you would like.” He whispers in her ear, giving her hand one last squeeze, before he's speed walking back the way they came, his ears red. 

Feeling much better than she did before, she reenters the lobby to find that the party has ended, her family standing around with the clean up staff, each looking agitated, her father and Grayson each on their phones. 

“Where have you been?” Her father demands as soon as he sees her, putting his ohone away. 

“Around the city,”

“We need to talk about what happened tonight Marinette.”

“What's there to talk about, I got tired of playing the role,”

“What role?” Father asks in confusion.

“The perfect lady, who's polite and quiet. I may not have a clear idea on who I am, but it's not that.” Everyone stills at that, exchanging uncomfortable and concerned glances. Bruce grabs her gently, leading the family into a private room to talk.

“Babybird, we all have to act at some point”

“But I act all the time” she exclaims in frustration, “I’m never not acting.” She can tell they don’t understand, that they don’t quite get it. But Damian does and that's all that matters right now. 

Grayson comes up to her, kneeling down to eye level, for which she levels a glare at him. She is no longer a child. “Marinette,” he sounds so gentle and soft. Very much like Grayson, and this is why she didn’t want to talk to him because she just knows she's going to cry. 

“You are strong willed, determined to the point of death, kind, selflessly serving those who need it, but you don’t play well with others.” 

“You’re a great artist, and care for animals with much more care than the average person.” Todd joins in now too, also coming down to eye level. 

“You’re smart, and have a quick wit because of that.” Drakes adds from across the room, clearly embarrassed, even more so when she finally starts to cry. 

Bruce takes the place of the other two boys, who move to hover on her sides. “You are an amazing person Marinette and you have overcome so much, don’t forget for a moment the person you have worked to become.” She launches herself between his open arms. “Always try to be yourself, I just ask that we keep it polite in public, you can have a bit of a tongue too” He brothers chuckle at that. 

“Whatever you say oldman.” 

“Go upstairs to get ready to leave, we have an early flight back home.” She is glad to leave, being vulnerable leaving her feeling raw and exposed. Once in her room, she is quick to snatch up her phone. She breathes a sigh of relief at the text from an unknown number. The night wasn’t a total waste after all. While Marinette now had a clearer picture of who she was she still needed a dream to strive for. She looks out her window, the lights inside her room making it difficult to see clearly, but the beauty of the city wasn’t completely lost. Out there somewhere was Damian, and maybe, just maybe, her new dream as well. It wasn’t clear in her mind quite yet, but she knew that he would play a part in it somehow. 

Flopping on her bed, she’s quick to text back, surprised when he sends a picture, and asks for one in return. She is pleased to see that in the picture he looks the same as when they met. She takes some time trying to get the right picture, never having taken one of herself before. 

“Demonette are you taking selfies?” She is ashamed to say she jumped at the sound of Todds voice, quick to turn a withering glare on him. 

“The hell Todd, I could have been changing. Ever heard of knocking?”

“Don’t ignore my question!”

“And don’t ignore mine!”

“Are you and mini supes like a thing now?” He barrels on, trying to grab her phone. 

“EW! That imbeciel, think again.” She rolls off the bed, quick to lock her phone, just in case. 

“What are you hiding” He growls, swiping at her hands, she dances around him, annoyed at being interrupted. 

"None of your business!" 

"Bruce Demonette is hiding something!" Now everyone was in her room, eyes darting between Todd and herself, to the death grip she has on her phone. 

"Jason you are an adult, act like it, leave her alone." Father groans, leaving the room with a shake of his head. 

"But she was taking selfies Bruce!" Todd shouts following after the patriarch. 

"Why were you in her room?" Drake asks in disgust. 

Grayson sends her an encouraging nod and a wink before closing the door behind himself. "She's sixteen Jason, what's so weird about that?" 

She feels her temper rising, face flushed at the fact that he saw through her so easily. She quickly chooses one of the pictures she took, sending it to Damian along with an apology. 

Damian: It's ok. I don’t have siblings, sounds energetic. Thanks for the contact pic. 

Me: That would be an understated assessment of what kind of men my brothers are.

With a quick glance towards her door, she runs to lock it, before finally ridding herself of her dress. She could hear the texts coming in, but knew she had to clean her face off all the makeup before she did anything else. 

Damian:I have always wanted siblings

Damian: Just me and my mom though

Damian: Sorry that was insensitive

Me: Why would that be insensitive, you are simply stating a fact about your life. 

Me: And siblings are a nuisance. Constantly involving themselves in your personal business.

Damian: Ok. Did you get in trouble with your dad?

Me: No. 

Damian: That's good. 

Me: I’m not good with texting, I apologize for my awkwardness.

Damian: You are texting perfectly fine. 

Damian: What time do you leave tomorrow?

Me: 11:40 am. We will get back into Gotham around 4am a day behind. 

Damian: Wow you’re from Gotham. Hope you get there safe and stay safe.

Me: My safety is never a question, I am trained to adequately protect myself. 

Damian: lol if you say so 

Marinette stares at the receding conversation, then at the time. She could always sleep on the plane. And who knows when she will be back in Paris again. Not anytime soon that's for sure.

Me: Can I see you tomorrow before I leave?

She doesn’t feel anxious often, but now is one of those times. The minutes drag by as she waits for his answer, illogically fearing she overstepped a line. Illogically because she thinks back to his lips on her cheek, hoping that she wasn’t misreading him. 

Damian: Mom’s cool with it. We own a bakery so we are always up super early. 

She can’t help the wave of relief at the response, or that the address is close enough for her to walk there without her brothers knowing. 

Me: I’ll see you tomorrow. You should sleep now to get enough sleep to function safely and properly. 

Damian: I am used to running on very little sleep, no need to worry about me. 

Damian: But I won't keep you up, see you tomorrow Marinette. 

She doesn’t sleep right away though, all the new emotions and experiences buzzing in her mind. So she stares at the ceiling until her brain forces her other functions to shut down and recharge. She awakes early, her bags packed and ready by the door, and family undisturbed as she slips out. She finds the bakery easily enough, the signage in a classic french design and the paint a calming green and beige. It was cute and quaint. 

Glancing through the window she sees Damian at the register, what looked like school books piled around him as he writes, pure concentration in the air around him. The bell alerts him to her presence as she enters the shop, his eyes meet her own and his face light ups. 

“Marinette you’re here so early”

“Sorry I didn’t text ahead, bakeries are known for opening early. It looks like I interrupted your studying. 

“It's fine, I was just getting ahead.” He puts everything away lightning fast, and she is impressed by the organization. “So you have a few hours before your flight leaves, would you like to come up?”

“Up?”

“Yeah, we live above the bakery.” Taking her hand, he leads her behind the counter, revealing a large kitchen and another door leading to a hallway. A woman was in the kitchen, her hair tied into a tight bun, her arms and face covered in flour and yeast. 

“Oh Damian is this your friend, Nice to meet you I’m his mom, Talia.” She was definitely his mother, the resemblance uncanny except for the green eyes, hers were brown. Her eyes showed her kindness and the smile lines on her face told Marinette what kind of woman she was. Damian was very lucky to have her. 

“Nice to meet you, my name is Marinette.” 

“You kids go up stairs and have fun, but no funny business.” She waves them off, turning back to the stone oven before pulling bread out. 

“Mom!” Damian hisses in embarrassment, he glanced at her before pulling her out of the kitchen. “Sorry about her”

“I do not mind, she seems very kind.” 

“Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don’t think too much fazes you, huh?” 

“No normally, I’m normally very guarded and hyper aware.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Nothing you can do about it, just a deeply ingrained habit” She looks around the small apartment, finding the simplicity and bright colors giving her a welcomed feeling. Surprising considering her preference for dark colors. “What a lovely home.”

“Thanks,” She follows him as he moves towards the set of stairs against the wall of the kitchen. “This is my room, sorry about the mess, I’m working on a project or two right now.”

She takes back what she thought about his organizational skills, the explosion of fabric, pins, and pattern paper covering the floor left much to be desired. The walls were covered in sketches, and not just of clothes but people and places too, as well as cut outs from magazines and fabric swatches. An older looking sewing machine sits on one desk while the other is full of books, pens and colored pencils. 

“Wow, I can see how passionate you are about your dream.” 

“Yup, I want nothing more than to own my own line, and to see people wearing my designs.” She picks up a green knit sweater of one of his chairs, liking it for the color. It matched his eyes. It was soft and even smelled like him. 

“Do you like that one?”

“Yea.”

“You can have it, I was just trying something new and really liked how it turned out.” 

“Are you sure you wont need it?”

“You can send me pictures if I need a reference, wow that sounded really flirty” He gives a nervous chuckle.

“Was it,” she's amazed by how easily ruffled he constantly became, “My mother never taught me how to flirt, so I don’t fully understand it” She continues to pick through his clothes, inspecting each piece. 

“I’m going to ignore that passing comment, and we flirted most of last night, at least I felt like we did” 

“Why do people flirt?” 

“To, huh, show another person they are interested in them, romantically.”

“Oh then I definitely flirted with you last night,” She spins around, pleased to find a red faced Damian awaiting her, “I am very interested, and it's all very new to me.”

“Wait, you’ve never liked anyone before?”

“No, but I am certain that a fluttering stomach, blushing and increased heart rate are signs of romantic interest. So I am certain that what I am feeling is accurate.”

“You are also not embarrassed easily,” Damian murmurs through his hands. 

“Do you not feel the same?”

“NO!” She jumps at the force of his answer, too surprised to process his answer before he is tumbling through his words, “no, what I mean is, yes I feel the same”

“Oh” This pleases her greatly. 

“I’m just scared about starting anything so quickly and with you leaving and everything.”

“Understandable, but I can easily fly over for holidays, I could even have my father transfer me to Paris. They do have an exemplary education system after all.” 

“You are taking this distance thing very well” 

“Well I will miss seeing you, but we will still be able to communicate.” She takes a seat beside him on his couch. 

He gives her a fond look before grabbing a paper bag, filling it with her new sweater and a few other items. “You are a very interesting girl Marinette.” 

Her phone rings, bringing her mood down, knowing it can only be her father. “Good morning father,”

“Marinette where are you?”

“I just stepped out for a moment, I’m heading back now.”

“Please let me know next time you are leaving,” She pauses for a moment, hearing real concern and fear in her father's tone. 

“I won’t willingly go back to her.”

“I know sweetheart, but I am afraid she won't give you a choice, and knowing where you are will put me at ease.”

“I promise to let you know next time father.” With that she hangs up, sharing an equally bitter sweet gaze with Damian. 

“I’ll walk you out, I can’t leave my mom alone with the bakery for too long sorry”

“I completely understand, thank you for the clothes,” 

Talia is waiting with a box of pastries, smiling sweetly before sending her off with a quick hug. “Take care of her Damian”

“Yes mom,” They exchange a hug, not too long or too short. 

“I’ll text you soon, thank you for making this visit a pleasant one Damian.” 

“Safe travels, bye Marinette.”

“Bye Damian.”

As she nears the awaiting car, she sees her father and Drake waiting for her on the sidewalk. Drake gave her box an inquisitive look.

“What do you have there?”

“Pastries for everyone, the owner was quite insistent” The men decide to think nothing of it, instead eager to get home and relieve the girls who stayed behind while they were gone. She stiffens when the car passes by the bakery, Damian walking out the door, meeting a girl with vibrant wavy hair and golden brown skin, along with a boy with slightly lighter skin tone and a ball cap. She wonders what kind of friends he has. 

“What is it Demonette? What's in the bag anyway?”

“Clothes,”

“How did you find time to go shopping?” Todd could try all he wanted, but he would get no fight from her. Not right now anyway, she felt too happy to ruin it. 

“I don’t know Todd, you’re the detective, figure it out.” She ignores his spitting anger in favor of continuing to stare out the window. The passing buildings and the Eiffel tower left her feeling refreshed and born again, despite the age of the city. She had started her journey of self discovery only last night, and she felt satisfied so far.

“Father, I think I would like to attend school in Paris next semester”


	2. Soulmate AU: Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this AU the injuries your soulmate gets appears as scars on your body. They also show up in the color of your soulmates eyes. Marinette learns at a young age just how deeply this bond truly goes and Damian learns to live with what life has given him.

For as long as Marinette could remember, she had always been covered in scars. Her parents were concerned to say the least. What was going on in her soulmates life for a new scar to appear on their daughter's body on an almost weekly starting at the age of four. Marinette however felt differently. Yes she was worried but she had the feeling that he was a fighter, and he was, in her heart, the strongest person she knew. 

The scars slowed as she grew older, but never gone for long. They almost stopped altogether when she turned eleven, only the occasional scrape in her knuckles or knees now. She did have one thing to thank about this bond though, that only she could see the colors. To everyone else she would be walking around painted in pale green lines on almost every surface of her body. She would trace his scars over and over, dreaming of the day she could see his green eyes for herself. 

She would dance around her parents, spouting her all her dreams and desires. Everything from their wedding to what their house would look like and how many kids they would have. Her parents tried to be supportive, but the possibility of what her soulmate's life was like left their hearts heavy. Marinette remained the optimist, believing that everything would be ok. 

All those dreams were crushed one day however, shortly after she turned thirteen. She had been taking a shower, when the worst pain she had ever felt pierced her heart. She cried out, grasping at her heart, trying for anything to make the pain stop. She started to cry, it hurt so bad.  
Then she felt it, a new scar forming just below her clavicle, before everything went numb. 

She laid there in the bathtub, the water beating down on her, but she couldn’t feel a single thing. She can feel her panic rising, it takes her a few tries to get out of the tub, her brain having trouble connecting the loss of touch to the grip her hands are trying to maintain on the tub's rim. 

She collapses onto the floor, crying when she can’t feel the cool tile against her cheek, or the water pooling around her body. Her sobs increase when she can’t feel the tears she knows she is crying. Why can’t she feel anything?

She can hear her mother knocking on the door, her voice rising in hysteric as Marinette fails to respond. She pushes herself up slowly, fumbling at the lock on the door, feeling a small victory when she finally unlocks it before falling to the floor again. 

Her mother rushes in, quick to scoop her daughter up, crying when she sees her daughter's newest scar, quick to cover her in a towel, attempting to delay the inevitable. “Mom, I can’t feel anything.” 

Sabine tears up even more, knowing the harsh truth her daughter had to face at just thirteen years old, much too young for heart break. But was there ever a proper age for it? She gently carries her daughter to her room. She dresses her, and brushes her hair, knowing that any gentle touch she normally used to calm her Dou Dou, would have no effect now. 

Marinette kept asking her mom questions, anxious for answers, confused and scared. Her mother remained silent, only sitting behind her. Marinette glances at her mirror in the corner, watching as her mother brushes out her hair, wishing just this once she could feel the pain from a stubborn knot. Then she sees it, an ugly green scar right where she had been in intense pain earlier. 

Marinette can feel herself starting to hyperventilate. She pulls at her shirt, frustration growing when she can’t feel the soft cotton. Most of the time, scars healed in thin lines or round circles, depending on what made the original injury. This however looks like it had healed over rough and bumpy. It was still a little red, blotching around the edges, a few scabs covered it as well. 

“Mom he died” There was no way to survive an injury to cause this scar. Her soulmate was dead. Before she had even gotten to see his green eyes, he left this world. She watches, horror growing as her mother brushes her hands over her back. He had been impaled straight through. Marinette started to feel sick, at least she still had that. 

“I’m so sorry Dou Dou, but you will never be able to feel anything again.” She hugs her close, kissing her head softly. Marinette doesn't miss how her mother doesn’t tell her she’s wrong. Now her heart feels just as numb as the rest of her. It was a solemn night in the Dupain-Cheng household. 

She started therapy that week, learning to move without touch, learning to function as if her second half wasn’t snatched right from under her. It was a good thing she did, or Marinette figures she would have only wallowed in self pity, and festering anger at the unfairness of it all. But she would be strong for him, whoever he was. Was, she reminds herself. 

And strong she was. When she returned to school, she didn’t let any of her friends know what had happened, practicing careful movements, too careful sometimes and overcompensating her reactions into clumsy falls and spins. She put on the facade of one who spaced out easily, one who you had to call loudly to grab her attention. A classic space cadet. 

Life became a new normal, and the pain lessened, and she grew older. Life was good, and she was finding the ability and joy to see all the blessings she still had in life. She genuinely smiled more, her heart healing and ready to overflow with love for those around her. 

It was because of this life through her for another loop. She became the hero known as Lady Bug, and one could say her loss was a perk for how often she was thrown against solid objects. But she took it in stride, and worked hard to improve her skills to help Paris survive. 

Chat Noir became suspicious as more and more fights continued. He finally asked after a particularly nasty akuma, if her miraculous offered extra protection. “I can handle a hit ok, but I can definitely feel it. You always get back up without flinching.” She flinched at that, and he definitely noticed. 

“My soulmate died a couple years ago, so I am unable to feel anything anymore.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry Bug, oh man”

She rubs her chest where her reminder sat, “I never knew him, but it still hurt you know, left quite the nasty scar.” She tried to lift the mood with a dry laugh, but it just made the air thicker. 

“Pain like that never goes away.” He was so quiet and gentle, leaving both relieved and saddened for the other that they could understand the pain of loss. Their bond strengthened a little more that day, and only increased more over the years. 

Her carefully built and maintained facade was quickly broken however with the arrival of one Lila Rossi. The girl was cunning and perceptive. Why she had it out for Marinette, she may never know. Lila was careful, starting with the casual talk of soulmates, before moving onto the unfortunate topic and widely varying stories of those who lost theirs. Some say you died with your soulmate, others said you couldn’t tell when your soulmates died, and of course Marinette's reality, that you lost the ability to feel. 

Lila however took these speculations a step further. She claimed that her cousin lost her soulmate and not only lost physical touch, but her emotions as well. That she could no longer love, that she went to acting classes to hide among those who could feel emotions, that she was nothing more than an empty shell. 

Marinette never engaged with these conversations, put off by the idea that it could be the truth. After all, she was proof that it wasn't always true after all. She still loved deeply and felt joy and anger and sadness. She was still herself, just without her perfect other half. 

Her friends were quick to sympathize with Lila’s cousin. How tragic, and how horrible that she would never be normal again. It wasn’t until she entered the classroom one day, faced by the suspicious and scared stares of her friends, that Marinette knew her life was to change again. She doesn’t know how Lila found out, but the reality is she did, and Marinette would take it in stride. 

Lila accused her of pretending to be everyone's friend, that she was a monster trying to fool everyone around her. The class seemed to trust every word that Lila spoke, after all, logically speaking, she couldn’t have good intentions if she couldn’t feel anything. Marinette could only be offended, betrayed, shocked and hurt. 

She told them it was true she could no longer feel the physical world, but she assured them that her emotions were intact. She loved them all dearly, and nothing would ever change that. She could tell they didn’t quite believe her.

“You are a great actor Marinette, trying to trick us like that” Lila whimpers, trying to make herself look small. 

“In theory, if I can’t feel good emotions, why would I be able to feel bad ones?” Marinatte asked, desperate for them to think this through. “I could never be anything, much less mean spirited and conniving.” Lila looked like she took personal offense to that. 

“That's a good point” Rose whispers, her hands clasped tightly, clearly the whole situation stressing her out. She did hate confrontation after all. 

“I have always loved you guys, but if you want to believe differently, I can’t stop you.” 

“How do we know you really can’t feel anything, maybe you’re just trying to get sympathy” Chloe just had to spark the situation back into a raging fire. Soon everyone is talking over the other, each looking more and more agitated as moer words are exchanged. 

Marinette just sighs. She walks up to Nathanial, asking for his exacto knife. He hands it over, with some trepidation, but hands it over nonetheless. Marinette smacks the table top loud enough to get everyone's attention.

“I was thirteen when he died,” she pulls down her shirt enough for everyone to see her scar, the emotions ranging from sympathy to horror. “And I haven’t been able to feel anything since this scar appeared.” With that she takes Nathanial’s knife to her forearm, cutting three even lines, her hand nor flinching or wavering once.

“Marinette!” Everyone cried out, scrambling to help her. She doesn't realize she's crying until someone, Kim she thinks, is asking if it hurts. 

“It’s never going to stop hurting,” she sobs, “he’s gone forever and I will never be the same again! Is this proof enough for you!” 

“What is going on here- Oh my goodness Marinette!” Ms. Bustier rushes up the steps, quickly taking Marinette to the nurses office. The adults are panicking, Marinette tells them the truth, letting the nurse know that she doesn't feel anything so she doesn’t have to waste her medicine on her. It took quite a bit of convincing from her parents to let her leave without the medicine or a doctors office visit. 

Things were tense in the classroom for a while after that, and Lila and Chloe stopped talking to her altogether. Marinette had imagined worse than this if her friends were to find out, she would take the tip toeing over the silent treatment any day. 

The girls tried to stop talking soulmates around Marinette, but she wouldn’t have it. She encouraged them to talk about their dreams and thoughts about at all. She wanted them to continue to hold onto that hope and future for as long as they could. 

It wouldn’t be until Marinette was sixteen that her world shifted once again. It was dinner time, she had a slip with the knife, and sliced her finger. “Ow!” Marinette turns to throw away the food when the burning sensation actually registered in the unused part of her brain. She freezes, staring at the blood pooling around her finger, relishing in the hurt. Not that she enjoyed pain, no she just couldn’t believe she could feel pain once more. 

“Mom! Dad!” Marinette starts to scream because this could only be a dream. There was no way she could feel again. “Mom! Dad!” 

“What is it Marinette?” They bust into the apartment, her mother quick to grow frantic at the sight of blood now covering her daughter's hand and arm. 

“It hurt. The cut hurts.” Her parents freeze, exchanging bewildered glances. 

“What?” Her mother sounds like she’s trying not to believe it. Marinette agrees, it's too good to be true. So she reaches up to touch her hair, relishing in the greasy unwashed state, her face too oily, her shirt a soft silk. She spins around, swinging open the freezer, laughing at the burning cold of the ice cubes. She fails to notice the new scar forming along her knuckle on her right hand. 

“Marinette sweetie, please sit down so we can take care of that cut.” Her father pushes towards the island, 

She winces at the disinfectant, trying not to wiggle in her seat to feel the hardwood beneath her. The pressure from the band-aid just adds to her new reality, she starts with a laugh before it mixes with tears. 

“What does it mean?”

“I don’t know sweetie, we will go to the doctors first thing tomorrow,” 

Despite Marinette having stayed up too late touching anything and everything in her room, she didn’t feel overly tired while waiting in the doctor's office. The fabric used on the waiting chairs were itchy and Marinette decided she did not like that, but couldn’t feel regretful towards her shorts at all. 

“Well Ms. Dupain-Cheng, there have been stories about soulmates falling into a coma, and that could explain what is happening now.”

“A coma?” Marinette whispers in surprise, hope blossoming in her chest once more. 

“Yes, it's very unlikely that you have a new soulmate, with you being sixteen and all.” 

“Doctor you said stories and not studies, sorry if I would like a little more of a solid reasoning.”

“Unfortunately, it's been a hard area to study so research is often limited and incomplete.”

“I see” Her mother murmurs, gripping her hand tightly. 

“The only other explainable reason is her heart healed from the loss. After all, people can’t come back from the dead.”

Marinette felt a little crushed after that. The possibility that her soulmate was possibly still dead was not one she really wanted to consider but she needed to be realistic. It has been three years now. Her body had probably finished healing from the shock. So Marinette pushed aside the notion of an awakened soulmate in a hospital somewhere and instead focused on her second chance at living life to the fullest. 

Her friends couldn’t believe it, the romantics holding out for the coma theory, despite Marinette protests. She melted into the first hug she had felt from Alya and Adrian, each of them crying tears of joy. 

When she told Chat Noir later that day, he looked at her in confusion before exclaiming something she never thought she would hear him say as Lady Bug. “Marinette?”

“What?”

“You are! You’re Marinette, oh my gosh”

“What are you talking about Chat?” She laughs nervously. He drops his transformation before she can protest, leaving Adrian in his place. She gapes in surprise for a few minutes before joyously throwing herself into his arms. It had been a rough and wild two years, but things didn’t feel all that different in the long run.

Things weren’t all that different for Damian. He felt lost and empty when he woke up in his father's arms. Yes he was thankful at a second chance at life. He felt overjoyed to be with his family again, but something was missing. A year being dead so it was understandable that he couldn’t feel anything. Titus’ fur, bat cows horns, or the cool steel of his blades. Something must be wrong with him. A side effect from the magic? How would his family react to finding out? So he kept it a secret, afraid of the possible rejection. 

It was one week later that he discovered another side effect of the magic. He now had super strength and flight. It was a learning curve to say the least. At least the loss of physical touch helped with the super strength part of things. 

He couldn’t keep his secret for too long though, however six months was an amazing feat to say the least. He had gotten cut during a scuffle, the blood going unnoticed until Dick had panicked, calling for Alfred to bring the medical supplies. 

“Why did you say anything!” 

Damian can only sit quietly, refusing to look at Alfred's hands as he works the stitches into his skin. He knows he won't feel it anyway so why look. 

“Master Damian, normally you would be a squirming mess as I do this, care to explain” His words may be stern, but his voice was so gentle. Of course he already knew the answer to his question. Bruce walked over, kneeling in front of his son, and Damian was shocked by the emotion on his father's face. He looked so solemn and heartbroken. 

“Damian can you feel anything?”

“No...but I’m sure it's just from the magic so I wouldn’t be too concerned father”

“Oh baby bird. Damian…” Dick sighs, coming up to hug him. Damian sits confused by everyone's reaction, for no one said anything else for a few minutes. Bruce was holding his head in his hand, and Alfred just continued to stitch him up, moving faster than normal. 

“Damian I am so sorry, but when you died, your soulmate must have died as well.” 

Well, Damian thinks to himself, that explains the empty feeling. He looks at his fingertips, where little blue prick marks sat, then at his arms where the circled burn marks sat around his wrists. He had always theorized about what kind of girl his soulmates was. She must have a hobby like cooking for her to get the burn marks. And probably a craft of sorts for the marks on the tips of his fingers.

He always felt like she was a gentle spirit, patient and energetic. He tried to not think too hard about when they would meet, if they would ever meet. At the time he was with his mother, and soul mates were a taboo topic. With his father, he never felt the need to bring it up, and no one ever discussed it freely. So he assumed the same rules apply. 

“They say sometimes when one soulmate dies, so does the other. If you still can’t feel anything then..” Dick doesn’t finish his thought. 

“Oh” Damian hops off the table, shuffling back towards the manors elevator. He pauses before he pushes the button. “So I will be like this forever?”

“Most likely.” His father answers him.

“I see, I will use this new development to the best of my ability. Good night.” Dick can’t find the emotional energy to chastise him for taking such a rational approach. It must be his base morals rising back up to cover the hurt. 

And fighting to cover the hurt Damian was. The idea that something he only realized he wanted now that he couldn’t have it stung worse than any physical would he had ever gotten. Except maybe that stab through the chest. That definitely didn’t feel great, and he can only hope his soulmate didn’t suffer from it like he had. 

Damian decided to stop focusing on the impossible and strived for perfecting his new found abilities and refining his ingrained training. Two years and a good portion of the training was wasted. It happened in a moment with no warning. 

He had been practicing his punches on a cliff side, the rock having a similar consistency to a punching bag. He paused to take a drink of water before throwing another punch at the rock wall, only to recoil in pain. “The hell!” His hand started to throb, the skin tinted red and knuckles bleeding. 

Damian was now more confused than ever, jumping when the spray from the ocean splashes against his legs. Crouching down he runs his fingers through the sand, the damp grainy sensation oddly satisfying. He tries to fly back up to the manor, but finds he can’t do that anymore either. Well crap, Damian eyes the rocky cliffs. That's the last time Damian relies so heavily on magic. 

Finally back on the Manors grounds, he lays for a moment, enjoying the cool grass, still damp from the morning sprinklers, and the warmth of the rising sun on his face. Now the only question was, why is this happening and what does it mean. 

He marches past his family in the kitchen, heading straight for the cave, quick to gather as much information he can on soul mates that he deems necessary. Hours later the only explanation he can find is that his soulmate could have fallen into a coma at the moment of his death. So he started searching the world for anyone who had fallen into a coma the day he died, but found nothing. His frustration grew.

“Hey, you’ve been down here for awhile. Do you have a new case?” Damian eyes Tim, deciding whether or not he wants his input or not. He decides he has nothing to lose, only to gain from his thoughts on the matter. 

“I regained the ability to feel while simultaneously losing my gained powers.”

“Whoa that's like near impossible to happen”

“Unless my soulmate was in a coma for the last three years, which I have found no record of.”

“Well perhaps neither of those things ever happened, so the magic has worn off.”

“Or?”

“She really is gone, and the magic restored your body to normal with the exchange of your powers. It would be better to ask one of the magic users in the League, not really my preferred area of speculation.”

Damian immediately sought out who he could, eager to find an answer for this phenomenon. However they all had either the same theories or no answers. Even Zatanna couldn't help him, it was after the urging of his family that he halted his search. 

She might not even be out there, she could honestly be dead and his hyper focus on this false hope isn’t helping. So he let it go, let the idea of her go, let go the last sliver of hope he had that she was still out there waiting for him. It was time to move on. He tried to ignore the lingering blue on his hands, and took to wearing gloves on the regular. This decision would leave him ignorant to all the new scars that would appear as Marinette would forget to be careful some days and had reignited her passion for sewing. Marinette as well would miss her new scars as she had so many already, it was quite easy to miss the fresh ones. She would simply overlook them, focusing on never entertaining the idea of a second chance. 

It was shortly after Marinette regained her feeling that Wonder Woman approached them with the offer of mentorship and even league membership in the future. To say she and Chat were surprised was an understatement. While Chat was quick to agree, it took some convincing from her partner and the prospect of meeting a past user of Tikki’s for Marinette to agree. She also met Nightwing, the lead trainer of hero youths and Zatanna, another magic user. They both offered invaluable insight and wisdom they eagerly accepted. It was tough learning on the fly all these years. 

Damian had heard of these new heros, but elected to keep his focus on Gotham while the rest of the family was quick to introduce themselves. Chat made frequent trips to the space station to meet with other heros while Marinette stayed in Paris as much as she could, continuing her work on their search for Hawkmoth. It was through Chat that she and Red Robin met, both quick to help the other with their research. 

They quickly became professional friends, and it was during one of their virtual brainstorm sessions that she became acquainted with Red Hood. It took a little longer for her to open up to him. Jason would consider them good friends while Marinette considered them to be good colleagues. Jason was determined to win her over to his view of things. 

Thanks to everyone's constant assistance, Hawkmoth was finally defeated by the time she was just shy of turning twenty. It had been far too long a fight in her opinion, but the man was smart, Marinette had to give him that. Now that Marinette felt safe enough to leave Paris, she accepted Red Robin's offer of training further with the league. Under the pretense of going to American College, she left home. 

It was on her first night in Gotham that fate finally played its final card. She was on her way to the assigned meet up point, enjoying the taller buildings for longer free falls. She relished the air rushing into her eyes and past her ears. Just as she was reaching for her yo-yo she saw a figure swinging towards her. Before she could react, it had grabbed hold of her, leaving them tangled together swinging through the air. Marinette squirmed to see her mysterious rescuers face. Then she felt it, a strong pull of her eyes to his and an electric spark between their bodies when their eyes met. 

Damian wanted nothing more than to stare into those ocean blue eyes for the rest of his life, but he didn’t want the rest of his life to be the next minute. He quickly swung them to a safe and secluded building top, conveniently the same Marinette had been heading for moments before. They stumble a little upon landing because of their refusal to let go of the other person. 

“You’re alive.” Their whisper of unity only draws them closer to the other. 

Marinette refuses to let pessimism take over, this is real, this is her soul mate, and he's very much alive. However she still reaches up to touch right above his heart, signing in relief as she feels the originator of her scar right there under his uniform. 

“Woah, hey Demon-spawn you can let Little Bug go now, you’re scaring her.” Neither register the watching parties voices. Damian reaches up to brush away her tears, hyper focused on every feature he can take in at this moment. Her button nose, the barely concealed freckles across her nose, her peach lips mouthing the word alive over and over, and obviously her eyes. 

Slowly Marinette reaches up to remove his mask, the boys freaked for a moment. After all, even they haven’t revealed their identities to her. They start to freak even more when Damian doesn’t stop her, but reaches up to help. His eyes were more beautiful than she had ever imagined. A dark green that complimented his arabian skin tone better than any color ever could. He was perfect. 

She whispers the word alive one last time before standing on her tiptoes, tangling her fingers into the hair at the base of his neck and her lips meeting his. Damian leans down, arms wrapping tightly around her waist. 

“What is happening!?” Jason shouts, desiring to run from the scene and needing to see it through to the end at the same time.

It was finally Jason’s freak out that they registered their audience but still didn’t have a care in the world. Damian pulls away first, leaning his head against hers, eyes closed, just relishing in the feeling of her in his arms. 

Marinette’s legs give out from under her, Damian softly pulling her into his lap, still refusing to let go of her. She starts to cry uncontrollably, a death grip on the hood of his cape. “You’re really here, you really are alive.”

“I didn’t kill you,” Damian sighs, burying his head into her shoulder. Letting his brothers watch him kiss his soulmate was one thing. To let them see him break down and cry was another entirely. “You lived.” 

Tim finally put all the pieces together, pulling Jason along with him off the roof. “Whoa, wait Red, they still haven’t told us what’s going on”

“And they won't for the next few hours. I’ll explain everything, just let them process this alone.” Jason finally relents to that, following him, but not without one last look at his baby brother. Damian had always been a tense on edge child, a habit that never fully went away as he aged, but never before had Jason seen him so relaxed and at peace. 

Marinette and Damian stayed in their own little world for the remainder of the night, having moved from the roof top back to her apartment. They talked about anything and everything, always touching the other in some way. Damian was the first to awaken well after the sun had risen, Marinette sleeping between him and the back of her couch. He marvels in the fact that she was here. His fingers brush over her cheek, moving her hair out of the way. 

Damian chuckles to himself. She looked like snow white with her ebony hair and peach colored lips contrasting with her fair skin. Finally Damian felt complete, no longer wandering lost in the world. He had found what he had looked for for so long. He would protect her from any more pain at all cost, the guilt heavy from having put her through so much turmoil. 

“Stop that?” Damian eyes her curiously as she stares up at him through her lashes, sleep still heavy in her eyes. 

“Stop what?”

“Blaming yourself for what happend.”

“But I-”

“You were taken advantage of, and manipulated to achieve the outcome your mother wanted. You were protecting your family, that is all that matters. That and that you’re here now.” She snuggles against his chest. “Leave the past in the past”

“Ok love, I will try for you.” Marinette hum, content with that answer for now.

Damian finally speaks again after giving Marinette a few minutes to fully reach functioning capacity, “We best go talk to everyone and get the drama over with”

Marinette chuckles at that. She would never have imagined that her soul mate would be the little brother to her two closest friends. Fate plays a funny game. “If I think too hard about it I get really embarrassed.”

“Then don’t think about it, see it as another mission to accomplish and that you will complete it flawlessly.” He kissed her hairline, slowly sitting up to stretch out. Rarely did he fall asleep in uniform, and no previous time has ever been comfortable. 

Two hours later and they are at the Manor, Jason and Tim not overly surprised to see her, neither mentioning the night before except saying she should let them know when she’s ready to go out for patrol again. Damian is surprisingly docile towards everyone's inquiries about himself and Marinette. That is until Jason says Damian should have met her sooner, then maybe he wouldn’t have been such a murderous demon. That comment did not go over well with either of the pair, however one handled it better than the other. You would think it the other way around until Damian slaps his hand over Marinette's mouth to keep her from going off on Jason.

“Let's go eat lunch now, I’m sure Alfred is close to finished anyway.” Damian gently pushed Marinette through the door, but he can’t stop her from throwing a glare over her shoulder. 

“Watch yourself Jason,” Marinette herself was growing increasingly overprotective of Damian, scared to lose him again. Jason can’t help the shiver of fear that runs its course through his body, Tim only laughs at his expense. 

“Wow she still doesn’t trust you.”

“Oh common Little Bug, don’t be like that!” Tim shakes his head at their shenanigans. It was going to be an interesting new chapter in the Wayne household.Tim Watches from the doorway, leaning heavily on it as he observes them. He had never seen more life in their eyes or on their faces. Marinette had this new glow about her, and Damian looked at her with a gentleness that none of them had ever seen before. After all, scars may remind you of your past, but they also show you the potential for your future. And those two had all the potential in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again guys, this will probably be the last one to this for awhile, I go back to work starting tomorrow. It's not that I'll stop writing, but rather it will just take me longer. Thank you for all the kudos on the first story and the bookmarks from Agentxx92, cat__thecreator, BookwormNamedMe, FreedomWhistle, Comicnerd, bcatty, Duckie_Paradise45, and Bisha_blackcat. I really appreciate it. 
> 
> In case anyone is confused about the time line.  
> They are both the same age when Damian dies. It took a full year for him to be resurrected, and the magic that brought him back to life messed with their soul bond. They both regain feeling at 16 at the same time (Damian is technically a year younger because he didn't age for a year).
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys thanks for reading, and thank you for opening this collection when there is only one story so far. There will not be an updating schedule, I'll post when I can. 
> 
> Always feel free to request any Au's or one shots you would like to see in the comments bellow, not guarantees I'll take it but I'm always looking for new inspiration and would like to write stories you guys want to read.
> 
> Again thank you and please subscribe!


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